


Just You And The Moon (On My Skin)

by JessicaRVance



Category: The Locked Tomb Trilogy | Gideon the Ninth Series - Tamsyn Muir
Genre: Also actual sex, Bloodsucking as a form of sex, Eventual Smut, F/F, I haven't posted a fanfic in years y'all, No warnings yet, Tags may change depending on how this goes, Vampire/Werewolf Relations, Vampires, Werewolves
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-21
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-13 02:15:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28895709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JessicaRVance/pseuds/JessicaRVance
Summary: Gideon Nav, werewolf and hottie, is kidnapped by the Blood of Eden vampire coven. Turns out they want a favor. Too bad the smell of her blood makes them all sick.Well, not all of them.
Relationships: Gideon Nav/Harrowhark Nonagesimus
Comments: 8
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Vampire and werewolf AU vampire and werewolf AU vampire and werewolf AU  
> You know one of these is kicking around in Harrow's weird little mind.  
> Title is from "Eavesdrop" by The Civil Wars.

When Gideon woke up, her whole body ached.

That wasn’t new—the monthly transformation took a lot out of her, and it wasn’t unusual for her to wake up naked, limbs feeling made of lead, with blood crusted around her mouth.

Her surroundings _were_ new, though. She’d woken not in a dappled forest clearing or the floor of her isolated cabin, but in a cold metal cage.

The room was dark, but the feeling of the air inside it told Gideon it was big. The ceilings were high too; the bars of her cage went up a good three, maybe four meters. A single fluorescent light overhead illuminated the cage, casting the rest of the space in impenetrable shadow. There wasn’t enough sound to give Gideon any idea of where she might be, just that distant, echoing sort of empty silence that rooms offer when they had nothing else to give.

Gideon sat up, groaning at the bone-deep pain in her muscles, and tried to remember what had happened. Lunar amnesia was common among newer wolves, but it’d been almost ten years since she first transformed. She’d long since figured out how to keep herself lucid during her time in the fur. So if her memory was fuzzy now, that had nothing to do with it. She closed her eyes, forehead pounding.

_I was hunting. Soft earth under my claws, summer grass, damp left on the leaves from rain earlier in the day. I was on a pine marten’s tail, the little shit didn’t have enough sense to get up a tree and away from me. I could hear its blood screaming through its veins with adrenaline and fear. Couldn’t wait to feed._

Then something had hit her in the side, and hard. Hard enough to knock her off her feet and completely off track. She’d rolled to the bottom of a ravine before she’d managed to right herself, but by then whatever had hit her was on top of her. It was small but strong, _so_ strong, and it bit into her neck and the world went dark.

She hadn’t even heard it coming. Her pride hurt worse than her body.

A door somewhere to her left opened. The sudden light flooded Gideon’s eyes, still oversensitive from the change, and she squinted with a low growl. A hazy silhouette crossed the threshold, and then the door shut once more.

“Who are you?” Gideon demanded, voice rough. Her throat always hurt like hell the first morning after.

She didn’t ask _what_. No need to. The room and the cage suggested that her attacker hadn’t been an animal. Its speed and strength told her that it wasn’t human.

Which only left one more option.

“Apologies for the accommodations,” said a prim voice from the shadows. “It was suggested that you may be more amenable if treated as a guest, rather than a prisoner. But we voted on it and the cage won out.”

Once more, with feeling: “Who the _fuck_ are you?”

Her visitor stepped into the dim halo provided by the overhead lamp. She was small and probably very thin, though it was hard to tell for sure given the voluminous black robe cinched around her waist. Short-cropped black hair curled around a pointed little face with high cheekbones and big eyes—dark eyes, eyes so dark they seemed to swallow what little light they caught.

“My name is Harrowhark Nonagesimus,” she said. “I represent the Abbess of the Blood of Eden Coven.”

“Vampires,” Gideon grunted. “You’re all so fucking pretentious.” She got to her feet with all the dignity she could muster while naked and sore, and stepped toward the bars that separated her from the vampire. “Were you the one who attacked me?”

“No.” Harrowhark’s gaze trailed down Gideon’s bruised body. “I’m not typically involved in field work.”

“Just interrogation?”

The vampire’s eyes rose to hers once more. “Negotiation.”

Gideon gave a bitter bark of laughter and took another step forward. “Yeah, okay. Here’s a negotiation for you.” She reached for the bars of the cage. “You let me out of here and then you go fuck—”

As soon as her hands met metal, her world went white-hot and she jerked away with a scream, teeth bared. Her palms were red. Delicate threads of smoke rose from her skin.

“Silver,” Harrowhark said softly.

“No shit,” Gideon spat back. She’d let go quickly enough that the burns were already starting to heal, but they’d still smart for a while. She glowered at Harrowhark, who stared back impassively. “What do you want?”

“Will you listen?” Harrowhark moved closer, careful not to touch the bars herself. “Truly listen?”

Gideon considered her. “Probably not. Sorry not sorry.”

Harrowhark inclined her head. She didn’t look surprised. “I’ll come back tonight. Perhaps you’ll be more receptive then.”

She had turned and was half-swallowed by the darkness before Gideon could react. “Hey!” she called, making the vampire pause. “I got news for you, after this bullshit there’s not a thing in the world that could make me _more receptive_. You walk away now and I’ll just be more pissed off than ever, because you made me wait so long to find out what’s going on.” Harrowhark glanced over her shoulder and Gideon shrugged. “You open up this cage, you get me some clothes and some food, and then _maybe_ I’ll listen long enough to say no.”

For a long stretch of silence, they stared at each other.

Then Harrowhark nodded again. “I’ll see what I can do.”

* * *

Gideon didn’t know where the steak had come from, but it was thick and marbled and raw so she didn’t ask questions. She devoured it in three bites after tugging on the jeans and t-shirt Harrowhark had brought to her. The vampire stood and watched as Gideon dressed and ate, but didn’t open the cage.

The meat gone, Gideon sucked her fingers clean and stared at Harrowhark, who looked like she may be sick if she was still able. “That’s part one,” Gideon said before licking a trickle of blood from her wrist. “Ready to let me out?”

“That’s not how negotiation works,” Harrowhark pointed out. She raised her hand and gave it an elegant flick, and a chair appeared from a darkened corner of the room, scraping across the floor to rest behind her. “You got something you wanted.” She sat and fussily crossed her legs at the knee. The robe tugged up at her ankles, revealing unexpected combat boots. “Now it’s my turn.”

Gideon sniffed contemptuously. She hated to admit it, but she didn’t have much choice. “Fine.” She began to pace the perimeter of her cage, bare feet silent on the metal floor. “I’m listening. _Truly_ listening,” she added with a sneer.

If the echo bothered Harrowhark, she gave no indication. She clasped her hands over her knee and pinned Gideon with a frank stare. “I assume you know very little about the current vampiric political climate.”

“You assume right. Don’t give even the tiniest shit.”

“I thought as much.”

Harrowhark took a deep breath—something she really needed, or force of habit? Or maybe it was just dramatics; she was a vampire, after all.

“For the most part, our covens tend to coexist... passably, if not peaceably. We tend to respect one another’s territories and tenets, no matter how much we may disagree with them. Over the past few hundred years there have been skirmishes here and there, the occasional attempted coup, but as I say. For the most part—and for lack of a better phrase—we live and let live.”

“Let me guess,” Gideon cut in, “this is where you say _until now._ ”

Harrowhark’s oil-black eyes narrowed just slightly. “Until now,” she agreed. Then she rose and stepped forward, hands behind her back, and began to circle the outer edge of the cage, keeping pace with Gideon. “Our relationship with the Mithraeum Coven has always been a bit _strained_.” Her inflection made Gideon suspect the word was a gross understatement. “We don’t know exactly what prompted it, but they have now taken measures to instigate a plan to murder the majority of humanity and enslave whoever is left, maintaining them only as a source of nourishment.”

“Would’ve thought your kind would be into that.”

The lines of Harrowhark’s face hardened to diamond-sharp edges. “We are predators, and humankind is our prey. Blood of Eden understands this, and we make no apologies for it. But we do not believe ourselves fundamentally _better_ than those we hunt.” She stopped walking and Gideon, despite herself, stopped too, meeting Harrowhark’s gaze when she turned to face her. “After all, do you? You yourself are a predator. Would you subjugate even those creatures whose flesh you don’t need to survive?”

“I’ve never even thought about it,” Gideon admitted. “It’s not the same with us.”

Harrowhark’s brow furrowed and she tilted her head. “Why not?”

“It just isn’t!” Irritation itched underneath Gideon’s skin, making her prickly. “We’re not exactly human, but we’re natural, like—like a lion, or a true wolf. We don’t hunt people. We’re not _monsters_.”

“But I am.” Harrowhark’s voice was deathly quiet. “Is that it?”

Gideon ignored the totally irrational twist of guilt in her gut. “Basically, yeah.”

“I see.” Harrowhark stepped in close, near enough to the bars to make Gideon vicariously uneasy. “The point is this,” the vampire continued. “No matter how we of the other covens feel about our existence, what the Mithraeum want is wrong. Stopping them is the only way to preserve both our dignity and the safety of our anonymity.”

Gideon stared hard at her. “So why are you telling me all this?”

“Your kind are the only beings strong enough to stand even a chance against mine,” Harrowhark replied. “We want your help in the battle against the Mithraeum.”

“My help?” Gideon might have laughed if she had found any of this even remotely funny. She started counting offenses on her fingers. “You ambush me in the middle of a hunt, you drag me into a fucking deathtrap, you lock me up worse than some kind of animal, and you want my _help_?” It took every last one of her brain cells not to grab the bars of the cage again, just for something to strangle. “Full offense, you suck at asking for favors.”

“I’m only a messenger. I speak for the Abbess.”

“So how come she’s not in here speaking for herself?”

To her immense surprise, Harrowhark’s eyelids fluttered and she looked briefly embarrassed. “I was chosen to speak with you because... Well. No one else could stand to be near you for long.”

“... Excuse me?”

“I’m sure it’s nothing personal.” Harrowhark examined her fingernails. “Lycanthropic blood has a very particular _aroma._ ”

Annoyance crawled up Gideon’s spine. “Are you saying I stink?”

“Not just you. All werewolves. And...” Something shimmered behind those frostbite eyes. “Only to most vampires.”

“Not to you?”

Harrowhark shook her head minutely. “Not to me.”

Silence stretched between them.

“So,” Gideon said at last, “I got cold-cocked by a bunch of snotty bloodsuckers who think I smell like shit, and then you expect me to be your guard dog.” She grinned, knowing exactly how unfriendly it looked. “You’ll understand if I say not just no, but _fuck_ no.”

“I thought not,” Harrowhark said on a quiet sigh. They watched each other for another moment. “They’ll only keep you here until you agree. You know that, don’t you?”

“I’m not surprised.” Gideon wanted to step away from the bars, to go back to the middle of the cage where it was safe. But Harrowhark stood mere inches from the silver too; Gideon knew they could both feel the heat of it and the vampire wasn’t shrinking away. So neither did she. “Nothing you can do for me, huh?”

Surprising her again, Harrowhark shrugged. “I can speak with the Abbess. If I do, can I tell her you’ll consider our request?”

“I don’t have a whole lot of choice, do I?”

“No,” Harrowhark agreed, and for a moment Gideon almost thought she looked genuinely regretful. “I’m afraid you don’t.”


	2. Chapter 2

Once Gideon got past being angry at her confinement, she got bored.

She was alone in the cage for hours after Harrowhark left. Presumably the vampire had gone against her nature, speaking to Gideon during daylight hours while the others slept. Vampires could function during the day just fine, as long as they stayed indoors with the curtains drawn, but tended to be fussy sleepers and didn’t prefer it. If anything else was going to happen, Gideon figured, it would happen after the sun set.

So she paced, and sat, and stretched, working the lingering kinks out of her muscles. She did push-ups and sit-ups, jogged in place, stayed far the fuck away from the bars. She worked on her handstand, glad nobody was around to see her fall on her ass more than once. She dozed for a while, flat on her back, but the bright light above and the cold floor below made it hard to sleep for long.

What she really wanted—apart from her freedom, obviously—was a shower and a set of clothes that fit. The jeans and shirt that Harrowhark had brought her were both a little too tight and short, and she was stilly grimy from the forest underneath them.

If she were at home, she’d crawl into the shower and sit under the spray for an hour, letting the hot water and the steam soothe her aches and senses after the change. She’d feel good and smell good.

Not here. Here she got to sit on the floor and chafe.

She’d almost gotten back around to anger again when the door opened. She leapt to her feet, ready to face Harrowhark, but froze when she realized the vampire wasn’t alone.

At her side was a tall, broad man with a mess of curly hair and a surprisingly wide smile for someone in the middle of a vampire coven. It was immediately obvious what he was; the musky scent of human was all over him. “Who’s this?” she asked, looking past him to Harrowhark.

“Magnus,” said the man, his voice weirdly warm. “I’m the Abbess’s husband.”

“Thrall,” Harrowhark corrected him.

“Well.” He was still smiling. “If you want to get hung up on technicalities.” He stepped forward and pulled a key from his pocket, and Gideon understood.

“So you’re the one who got me in here to begin with,” she said.

The thrall—Magnus, apparently—gave an apologetic little wince. “Sorry about all that,” he said as he worked the key in the heavy padlock on the door. “Some of us thought you ought to be treated like a guest, but...”

“Yeah, I heard.” Gideon watched him work. It was hard not to envy the effortless way he handled the silver-plated lock and grabbed the bars without even flinching. “They’ve got you on a leash too, huh?”

For the first time, he frowned properly. “I love the Abigail. I do still have free will.”

Gideon eyed the dual points of puckered flesh on the side of his neck. “Okay.”

“I’ve arranged an audience with the Abbess,” Harrowhark cut in. “You’ll have a chance to speak with her about any demands you may have in exchange for your services.”

The cage was open. The door Harrowhark and Magnus had some through was open, too. Gideon could knock the thrall aside easily, and with all her senses on alert she’d have a pretty good chance against a single vampire. Especially one as scrawny as Harrowhark.

But she didn’t know where she was, and she didn’t know how many more of the bloodsuckers stood between her and her freedom. So she stepped gingerly out of the cage, mindful of her bare feet and the silver bars, and let herself be marshalled out of the room.

They led her down a long, dark corridor with red brick walls and rough concrete floors, eventually reaching a spindly metal staircase. Harrowhark led the way, with Gideon behind her and Magnus bringing up the rear. The vampire still wore her boots, which looked heavy but were bizarrely silent against the steps.

At the top of the stairs Harrowhark opened a door to reveal a warm, spacious, and wildly outdated kitchen. _A pantry,_ Gideon realized in disbelief. _They were keeping me in a panty. Because I am a snack._

The kitchen fed into a living room—probably a parlor, actually, or something equally pompous—and Gideon got a look at two more Blood of Eden vampires.

One sat on a sofa, legs kicked out before her and crossed at the ankles in a distinctly non-vampiric way. She was all compact muscle; that much was obvious even through her jeans and worn, long-sleeved grey shirt. Her blade of a face was turned slightly away, studiously ignoring them as they passed, and Gideon felt with sudden, absolute surety that this was the one who’d taken her down in the forest. She almost wanted to ask her how she’d done it.

The other was an uncooked noodle of a woman who stood by the fireplace, one elbow on the mantle. She made a point of holding a lace handkerchief to her nose at the sight of Gideon.

Gideon hated her instantly. She couldn’t help it; her lips curled back over her teeth and gave a low growl.

Magnus said, “Don’t,” and Gideon didn’t know if he was talking to her or the dishrag lady. But they were already past the room and entering another corridor, so she stood down anyway.

At the first door on their left, Harrowhark stopped and knocked softly. When a voice from within said, “Yes,” Harrowhark glanced over her shoulder at Gideon, expression unreadable, and opened the door.

They entered a perfectly normal-looking study, its shelves lined with books, a massive world map hanging on one wall, a stately desk in front of tall windows covered in thick drapes. Behind the desk, back to the window, sat...

Well, a perfectly normal-looking woman. She looked maybe in her thirties, though Gideon knew better than to believe she was actually that young. Her hair was a dark mousy color and pin-straight, pulled into a messy bun at the nape of her neck. She regarded her visitors through a pair of glasses that she couldn’t need, surely? And she was wearing a cardigan.

Gideon was starting to think that Harrowhark was the only vampire in the coven with any dedication to the classic aesthetic.

“Please,” the Abbess said, gesturing to a pair of chairs on the other side of her desk. “Sit.”

Harrowhark did so at once, bowing a little at the neck. Gideon took her time, her eyes still fixed on the Abbess. The last thing she wanted to do was seem scared. Magnus the goofy thrall stepped around the desk to stand at the Abbess’s right, hands behind his back like he was about to give a casual lecture.

The Abbess’s voice brought Gideon’s attention back to her. “I understand you’re unhappy with the treatment you’ve received,” she said, leaning forward and folding her hands on the desk.

Gideon couldn’t help snorting. “Uh, yeah. Ganked on the first day of the change, chucked into a silver cage, left with fuck-all to do for hours? Sure, I guess you could say I’m _unhappy_.”

Magnus had bristled slightly at her tone, but the Abbess laid a hand on his forearm and his posture instantly flagged. “The cage was an unfortunate necessity,” she admitted. “There were... concerns, about the safety of the coven.”

It was a close thing, but Gideon managed not to glance at Harrowhark. “And a vote. I heard.”

“We do like to do things democratically here.” The Abbess ignored Gideon’s humorless chuckle and went on: “What can I do to persuade you to offer your assistance?”

“I _love_ how everybody keeps assuming that’s a thing that can happen.” Gideon settled further into the armchair, kicking up one leg to cross the ankle over her knee. “You guys pretty much whizzed it as soon as you took me down. And even if you _had_ talked to me face-to-face from the start, I’m still not sure I’d have any reason to help you.”

She half-expected the Abbess to argue. But the librarian-ass looking vampire just considered her, her glasses reflecting the lamplight and revealing nothing. After a yawning stretch of silence, the Abbess said, “You’re right.” Gideon blinked at her, and she continued, “Regardless, you understand my position. I can’t allow you to leave.”

A muscle jumped in Gideon’s jaw. How much time had passed since she’d first awoken in the cage below this house? How long did she have until the moon rose and the change came over her again? Surely it wasn’t _just_ irritation making her so jittery. She closed her fists, concentrating on the dig of her nails into her palms. “I’m not staying.”

“You are.” The Abbess spoke with finality, her tone soaked in the surety that what she said was fact. “I’m determined, but I’m not unreasonable. Tell me how we can make you more comfortable.”

Gideon stared at her. Then she looked past her to Magnus, who stared (a little uncomfortably, it seemed) at a point roughly six inches over Gideon’s head. She considered the other members of the coven she’d seen, the greasy one and the powerful one.

Then she looked at Harrowhark, who twitched as though about to meet her gaze. Then the vampire went still and didn’t turn, after all.

She turned back to the Abbess. “No more cages.”

The Abbess nodded encouragingly.

“I want a real room, with a real bed. I want to hunt. I want my own goddamn clothes.”

“You’ll have them. But I can’t let you leave to hunt. We couldn’t be sure you’d come back, you see. Unless...”

The Abbess’s steady gaze swiveled to Harrowhark and Gideon got a horrible feeling she knew what was coming next.

“Unless you had an attendant.”

The very air around Harrowhark seemed to stiffen. Gideon didn’t dare look at her; she just kept quiet and held her breath, hoping against hope. She was already scheming on how to lose Harrowhark as soon as she got out.

“Abbess,” Harrowhark hedged, like she was trying very hard to school her tone, “surely I would be put to better use elsewhere.”

“Oh, I don’t know.” The Abbess seemed to be warming to the idea. “You’re less affected by her than the others, and you’ve already established something of a rapport.” She glanced at Gideon. “Would that be an acceptable condition?”

_Be cool, Gideon._ She gave it a second, then shrugged. “I guess.” She could almost hear Harrowhark choking back further protests.

“Very well.” When the Abbess stood, Harrowhark hastily followed suit. Once again, Gideon took her time. “I’m releasing the wolf to your charge, Sister Harrowhark,” the Abbess continued. “Her comfort, care, and control will be your responsibility. Arrange a room for her, near the top floor and...” She gave Gideon a quick once-over. “As far away from our covenkin as possible.”

Gideon glared, but before she could speak, Harrowhark took her by the upper arm and she jolted. The vampire’s hands were almost skeletal, but her grip was like a fucking vice.

“Thank you, Abbess,” Harrowhark said tightly. Then she hauled Gideon out of the room.


End file.
